The fake boy
by ADS77
Summary: Mainly AU. Fleur is a girl, forced to pretend to be a boy. At 15, she enters Hogwarts and meets the trio. Things soon get awkward. Will she be able to keep up her disguise? And discover the truth? FDHG
1. The beginning

A/N: New story! Before my last paper tomorrow. The title is probably temporary, until I think of a better one. Also, I feel that Fleur is not a name a boy would have, but let's just ignore that fact and accept that there might be parents who would name their boy Fleur. I didn't want to change her name. it just wouldn't be Fleur Hermione anymore. D:

I don't know French, so kindly use your imagination and pretend the conversations between Fleur and her family are in french.

This is mainly AU. Also I've made Fleur younger, so she's only one year older than the trio, but they are in the same grade. Another thing to note would be the triwizard tournament does not at all occur in this fic.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

Review if you like it. :D

* * *

A young Fleur Delacour bit her lip, sneaked a glance at her mother before deciding to innocently ask a question that had bothered her all this while, "Maman, wh-why do I have to wear this?"

Apolline never bothered looking down.

The tiny Fleur, who was wearing a blue shirt and shorts, had short silvery blonde hair that was just reached her ears. Her face, although young, one could just take a glance at her and they would know she'll turn into a great beauty. Her small fingers clutched onto the suit tightly, waiting for her mother to acknowledge her, to give her a reply. Her mother let out a soft sigh before speaking, all this while not looking at her daughter, "Fleur, from today onwards, you are a boy."

Fleur blinked. She was confused, very confused. She had just spent the past ten years of her life as Fleur Delacour, a girl, and now, right before her eleventh birthday, her mother tells her that she's a boy. "Maman?" She tried to approach her mother again.

"I don't understand you, Maman. I'm a girl. Why do I always have to wear this, this boys clothing? Why don't I have any dresses like the ones I've read about girls wearing them in books? Why can't I leave the house? Why does Maman say that I'm a boy? Do girls turn into boys at eleven? Will Gabby turn into a boy when she becomes as old as me?" she bombarded her mother with questions that she had accumulated over the years, but never dared to ask.

Apolline looked as if she had an internal struggle within herself. Her eyes tensed and she allowed herself to stroke Fleur's hair gently. "You'll understand when you grow old," She said grimly, before continuing to speak, "But right now, from this moment, you will no longer behave as a girl. Do you understand?"

The silvery blonde head bobbed in understanding. Her sapphire eyes, widened, as if waiting in anticipation for her mother to continue her explanation. But there was none.

Instead, Apolline signaled to Fleur's grandmother, who walked over as gracefully as one at that age could, before she spoke again," Your grandmother here will teach you everything you need to know about becoming a boy."

With that said and done, Apolline Delacour walked away with a wrenched heart, her eyes glistening, all this while, she never turned back to look at her daughter once more, and muttered quietly, "Happy birthday Fleur, happy birthday."

* * *

Fleur Delacour, now eleven, twenty days and two months old, stepped into the Beauxbatons hall in silky blue robes with her wand tucked into matching blue pants. Her hair was swept back and had grown a little longer in those four months. She was a boy now, but part of her feared that if she kept up this pretense for too long, she would forget that she was once a girl. She had begged her grandmother desperately, to allow her to retain a small part of her which Fleur considered feminine. Something that she was never allowed to since young. Something she had always wanted to try, something she longed for when she stared with envy at pictures of other girls her age. Fleur requested for permission to grow her hair out.

Her grandmother (_was that pity in her eyes?_), to Fleur's surprise had obliged. "But my dear Fleur, make sure that no matter what happens, you are a boy. Promise me, to stay strong, and never, ever tell anyone your true gender."

Thankful to her grandmother and ignoring the many questions that resided in her, Fleur had promised to do her best. She shifted her feet awkwardly while she admired the silver chandeliers that lit up the entire hall, taking in new sights. Beauxbatons was indeed as incredible as she had read about, in her textbooks. "Salut!" a boy, standing next to her said.

Fleur tensed, feeling rather uncomfortable. She had rarely spoken to anyone who was not in her family and she didn't get to practice much, in that short time she had. "B-Bonjour," she replied nervously, stuttering a little.

The boy didn't seem to notice, shrugging off that nervousness in her greeting as someone who was nervous to start boarding school. He smiled at her before proceeding to greet the others in a relatively chatty manner. Fleur Delacour then, already knew that cross-dressing was a difficult task, but she would never expect, how much worse it could get in the future. She never took Divinations.

* * *

Fleur never saw her mother since that day. Every time she returned to her mansion in France during the summer holidays, the only ones she saw waiting for her were the ones who always replied her owls, her grandmother and her sister. Her father was always busy, somewhere out there, doing his job. As for her mother, it was an unspoken rule, no one made any mention about Apolline at all.

She would do the same thing every summer, tell her grandmother about the woes that she couldn't write in letters, mainly involving comical situations about her having to be a boy, but never once complaining. Her grandmother would sit there patiently in her rocking chair and chuckle. Fleur would then play with her sister, who she knew would have the same fate as her, do her homework, read, and drink the potion that her grandmother made for her. It was something that she had to drink every month. Her grandmother had told her it was something she had to drink to ensure that her secret would not leak. What exactly that greenish potion did, Fleur never knew. And on the day of her birthday, she would ask her grandmother the same question every year, "Am I old enough now?"

Her grandmother would smile at her, touch her hair the way her mother last did, and say in a soft gentle voice, "Not yet, my dear Fleur."

She would then resume the usual activities until it was time to return back to Beauxbatons. This happened for the past three years. But this year, it was slightly different.

A fifteen year old Fleur was standing at King Cross Station, platform 9 and ¾, with her long hair tied in a low ponytail. She had matured beautifully throughout the 4 years spent at Beauxbatons and experienced many things. For starters, she learned that keeping quiet, doing her homework diligently and being aloof, so as to avoid unnecessary interaction with others had the contrary effect. This behavior, coupled by her pretty face had only resulted in her very own fanclub, filled with girls and boys, who admired Fleur, the pretty boy. Cringing at that memory, Fleur heaved a sigh of relief as she entered into a cabin, settling down. She knew she made the right choice of behaving that way, when her grandmother, broke the mini-tradition they had formed, and told her that she'll be leaving Beauxbatons and studying in Hogwarts instead. Staring out of the window, waiting for the train to move, she had a recollection.

"Grandmère, why Hogwarts?" she asked politely, "I've been doing fine in Beauxbatons."

"That is why you are going to Hogwarts," her grandmother replied, pausing a little before she continued to speak, "That was the plan. For you to undergo training in Beauxbatons as a boy, ascertaining that your disguise would not let up, before we send you to study in another country. Because no one would know you there, and that itself is a good thing."

Fleur had merely nodded, knowing that there were many more things that she was kept in the dark from. She would wait, patiently for the day she turns of age, an age in which her family would deem her worthy of knowing the information.

Breaking free from the window, Fleur resisted an urge to express her shock. She remembered vividly that the carriage was empty when she entered, and now, there were three other people sitting in it. A redhead, a brunette and sitting right next to her, a boy in glasses, coupled with messy jet-black hair. The brunette, who was holding the Standard Book of Spells, grade 4, first spoke, "Uh, we're sorry. We couldn't find an empty carriage and you were sitting alone, so we tried to ask for your permission but you didn't seem to be responding to us as you were busy…"

"Zat zis fine, I do not mind," Fleur replied curtly.

"I've never seen you before!" the redhead exclaimed.

Fleur frowned, that boy was (_rude?), _she didn't know a word to describe him. "I would be surprised if you saw me. I'm Fleur, Fleur Delacour, transfer student from France," and she reached out her hands at the other two, blatantly showing her displeasure at the redhead.

"Hello Fleur. I'm Harry, Harry Potter, nice to meet you," and he smiled at her, shaking her hand.

"Hermione Granger. That rude boy is Ronald Weasley. He's tactless, so don't take it too hard. I never thought I'll meet a transfer student. I mean, Hogwarts: A History only mentioned about it a few times. I'm really surprised. Were you studying in Beauxbatons? How was it there? Are you in our year? I'm sorry for rambling, there's just so much that I want to ask you-"

"Zat zis fine, 'Ermione," Fleur spoke, saying her name for the first time, and shuddering at how uncouth her English sounded. The possibility of another fanclub forming in Hogwarts was worse and she was glad to have a chance to learn more about the English and Hogwarts.

"I zink we 'ave a long way before we get to Hogwarts, non? I'll answer as many as I can," Fleur replied, "I will be in the same year as you,"

Ron cut her off, "How did you know what year we're in?"

Fleur pointed at Hermione's book, before continuing to speak.

By the time they arrived outside the castle gates, she had not only managed to learn some information that Hogwarts: A History, didn't include, such as the different Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors they got each year, the trio she just met had also kindly hoped fervently that she wouldn't be sorted into Slytherin. "Good luck," Harry mouthed to her, patting her back.

Fleur grinned at them as they separated at the hall. "I think he's prettier than a Veela!" Ron commented, his eyes following the other thinner boy's back.

"Don't be stupid Ron. Young Veelas no longer exist now. And there's no such thing as a male Veela. He just has good genes," Hermione retorted, "And besides, I didn't know you swing that way."

Harry just laughed.


	2. The encounter

A/N: Sorry I took a while to update, I got a job, but I've been working overtime daily. D: Also, this chapter is a little slow, but that's because I had to build up the story and provide more background information before anything happens. I do hope things will progress faster in future chapters, so please do bear with me!

To everyone who reviewed, thank you! Do review again if you like this chapter! I think I write faster if I get more reviews. :D  
Also, wishing everyone a belated happy christmas and a happy new year. Happy holidays!

* * *

After parting from her new friends, Fleur took a proper look around the Great Hall, not in awe or amazement, but like how a small kid would when their parents took them to the zoo; curiously. A Professor signaled her to follow the line of first years. She nodded and headed towards the last person in the queue, her low ponytail held up by a silver ring swished as she walked. There on a stool at the beginning of the long line was a raggedly old hat, the Sorting Hat. Upon seeing the hat, she suddenly remembered a line from Hogwarts: A History. _The Sorting Hat was able to look into the minds of the wearer, so as to sort the wearer into the suitable house. _Things were not looking in her favor already. She licked her lips dryly, wondering what would happen when it was her turn. _Would the hat be able to tell that she wasn't a boy and announce that information to the whole hall?_ She hoped not. Her grandmother must not have thought out the plan well. Desperately trying to recall what little information she had read about Occulmency, Fleur did her best and tried to practice blocking out her thoughts in that few minutes she had. "Delacour, Fleur!" the hat yelled, in its odd manner.

She stepped forward and took the Sorting Hat, hands trembling slightly when she placed the hat on her blonde hair as she sat on the stool that was a little too small for her. "Like reading eh? Hard worker too with a curious little mind. Hmm… I know just the right house for you! Ravenclaw!" the hat announced.

It turned out that she had nothing to worry about. If the hat had noticed anything, _she was most certainly sure that her last minute feeble attempts at Occulmency did not help_, it made no mention of it. As much as she wanted to shrug it off, it bothered her rather badly, but this was not the time for her to ponder yet. Loud cheers had already erupted from the Ravenclaw's table as Fleur proceeded to join them. She smiled and greeted them before she sat down and had her meal, trying to be as inconspicuous as she could. Although that did not seem possible now.

There were already many murmurs and whispers in the Great Hall about the arrival of this dashing new student. Fleur tucked her head down and avoided everyone as much as she could, choosing to focus on the question she had earlier and blocking out the numerous stares from flocks of girls and the occasional boy _which was way too often._

As she followed the other eagles to the Ravenclaw tower, she noticed that although they were either, curious, intrigued or attracted to her, not many of them had dared to approach her. Only one girl, the one with radish earrings, had attempted to welcome her, in her odd manner by introducing her to some scrumplesnucks or something as they climbed the stairs, while the other girls nearby had shot the girl dirty looks. The boys were slightly better, but just slightly. Terry Boot had shaken her hands merrily to welcome his new dorm mate but Michael Corner chose to watch at a corner instead, refusing to make a move. Unaffected by how the world viewed her, she unpacked her stuff gingerly, ensuring that the bottles of potion her grandmother prepared remained hidden and protected by safety charms under her trunk. Drawing her curtains, she proceeded to change into her light blue pajamas before she slept. And so began her new life at Hogwarts.

* * *

The next morning, when she followed her fellow Ravenclaws out of the tower to the Great Hall for breakfast, she could not help but once again be intrigued by the mechanisms of the ever shifting staircases. She randomly picked a seat and looked up, watching the owls flock in to deliver the daily post of parcels and letters. Fleur chewed on her toast slowly, choosing to take her time in case Gabrielle or her grandmother decided to mail her today. There were still quite a fair bit of glances directed at her, which she hoped fervently that it would die down in the days to come. Looking to the right, if only to avoid the large stares from the bunch of Hufflepuff girls, she saw this girl with bangs and straight black hair holding what seemed to be the daily newspaper for Britain. Regretting that she had not done her research thoroughly, she leaned forward and politely asked the girl if she could have a look.

There was this large bold heading that stated Daily Prophet followed by numerous small headlines. She flipped the papers open and held it up to read, shielding her face from view as the smell of fresh ink came wafting. This paper had greater coverage than the French one Fleur used to subscribe back then in school. There were many things, many more things that Fleur had never seen or read before. She realized how small she was compared to the world, and that world she referred to did not even include the muggle one. After she was done scanning(she finished her toast), she spoke to the girl again, "'Ow do I subscribe to zis?"

"Just head to the Owlery and tell the post Owls there that you want a subscription. It's 5 Knuts per issue. Do you need me to bring you there?" the girl answered.

Fleur shook her head. She knew where the Owlery was, she had memorized Hogwarts: A History. She stood up, thanked the girl and headed there to get her own subscription.

* * *

The first week had passed quickly, the only time she saw any of her Gryffindor friends, well, to be more specific, the one called Hermione, was during Ancient Runes and Arthimacy. She did not share any classes with Harry or Ron. And even then, she did not have the chance to speak much to her as the classes were small and Professor Vector was strict. The other Professors were equally alike to the ones in Beauxbatons. Some bearable, some not. _Are all the Professors the same everywhere?_ She wondered.

She had also made some new friends. Terry Boot turned out to be a very nice boy and did what he could to help her out. Then there was the weird girl, Luna Lovegood, whom Fleur found pleasant to talk to despite her quirks. There was also Roger Davies, who was 2 years above, that seemed overly enthusiastic to get to know her. They were all good people, friendly and helpful, yet Fleur made sure she remained a considerable distance from them. She had decided to be more sociable this year, but not overly friendly. She was definitely not looking for a _close friend. _That was a foreign word. Fleur Delacour had friends, made friends, but she never had a close friend.

Even though she had already studied her fourth year at Beauxbatons, there were still numerous differences in their syllabus as both schools had different emphasis. While she was ahead of her classmates with her spectacular wand work, earning Ravenclaw a substantial amount of points, it was not the case for the other classes that focused more on theory. Fleur had a spot of trouble with her written work. Hogwarts required greater elaboration and detail in the essays, something she was not trained for at Beauxbatons, which would usually start the essay drilling on their fifth year. That was not the only problem, there was also the language barrier. Spells were casted the same way, since they all used the Latin words, but now she had to write rolls of parchment detailing essays about the properties of the number six in English. Her English was not as smooth as her French, but Fleur was never one to back down from a challenge. She enjoyed overcoming them and in her bid to do so, Fleur realized that she actually had many things to do. Besides having to sneak into the bathroom to shower only when no one was around, or late at night, she still had to do her homework and try to catch up with her syllabus. To make matters worse, she had no idea what she was doing at the Ravenclaw Quidditch tryouts. Roger Davies had asked, _no dragged her_, while she was busy engrossed in her work, and in that state, she had somehow half-heartedly agreed.

Mounting the school's Cleansweep Six, a sleek broom with a decent speed, she frowned a little, unsure if she should give her all and try to get into the Quidditch team, or pretend to be a lousy player. She hadn't had much time to consider. Once they were all up in the air and the whistle blew, she arched her back slightly so that the incoming bludger nearly missed her head by an inch or two. Her raw instincts kicked in immediately, and before she knew what had happened, they were welcoming their new Chaser. Roger Davies was gaping at her, before jovially imitating her last actions on the broom. The seeker, Cho Chang smiled at her. Fleur just gave a lopsided grin in return, unsure of what she was supposed to feel at the moment.

* * *

This packed schedule was already wearing her out, even though it was only the first week. In fear that she would end up getting dragged into another club, Fleur had taken to spending her spare time in the library; Be it doing her homework, reading or additional research she had decided she needed to do. It turned out to be her favorite haunt as she finally got the peace and quiet she had always wanted unlike the common room.

She rubbed her eyes wearily as she looked at the foggy words on the pages in front of her. Her eyelids were heavy and beginning to droop. Her head nodded a couple of times before a soft thump was heard, as she fell head first onto her extremely thick book of Numerology And Gramatica. Fleur soon found herself drifting off to sleep in the library.

In a midst of a rather nice dream that involved her back at home, far away from Hogwarts, far away from all the essays that annoyed her, with her sister eating her grandmother's special crepe, she felt someone tapping her on her back and saying something about how the library wasn't for sleeping. Reluctantly, she forced herself to wake up, only to see a mass of brown bushy hair.

"Oh, it's just you," Fleur murmured groggily.

"What's with that reaction? Shouldn't you be happier to see me? Or perhaps you prefer the company of the droves of girls that always follow you," Hermione teased.

Feeling more awake by that comment, she retorted, "Touché. Now if you do not mind, I need to get going and give zose girls my autographs. Do you want one?"

Hermione let out a soft laughter. Still smiling, she spoke in excitement, "I haven't really seen you around. Have you adapted to life in Hogwarts? You seem rather worn out. Oh! You're reading this book too?"

Fleur nodded. "I asked Professor Vector to recommend me some books for zat essay and she suggested zis," she stopped for a moment to flick her wand, offering Hermione the chair next to her, before continuing, "Life at 'Ogwarts is certainly different. I zink zat I am managing just fine. Zank you for ze concern"

"I think not," Hermione said firmly.

There was an awkward silence and a look of surprise appeared on Fleur's face. "I don't think you are someone who would fall asleep while reading in the library," Hermione explained.

"You don't know me zat well," Fleur replied stubbornly.

Hermione turned slightly red, before she said, "This is a good book. I enjoyed it a fair bit. I just thought you would be fully appreciative of it as we shared the same tastes in books."

Fleur suddenly felt pleased. She had heard more about Hermione Granger in passing from her housemates, a know-it-all bookworm, which Fleur did not mind as she quite enjoyed reading and studying herself but she did not expect the other girl to think so highly of her. "I was tired," Fleur admitted, giving in, "I 'ave quite a busy schedule, with upcoming Quidditch practices and I 'ave zis, zis bit of problem with my essays," and she pointed to the parchments strewn across the table, with numerous cancellations and the occasional ink blotch.

"I can always help," Hermione offered.

Fleur brightened up, but still seemed hesitant to accept that offer, "I can't possibly trouble you," she said reluctantly.

"There's no trouble. It's not easy to cope with that kind of workload, I know it all too well, I've experienced it before last year," Hermione cringed, recalling the time-turner, before a scowl appeared on her face as she started to complain," I always, well nearly always help Ron and Harry with their essays, and they aren't even putting this much effort into it. Honestly, the both of them! We are going to sit for our O.W.L.S next year and they are still taking things so easily! Helping you would be a lot easier and besides, I'll get an excuse to reject them. When are you free? And what subjects are you taking? I only recall seeing you in two subjects, Gryffindors don't really get paired with Ravenclaws for most lessons."

There was a smile plastered on Fleur's face, grateful to the other girl as she listed her subjects, "Herbology, Arithmancy, Defence against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, History of Magic, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes."

" It might be sudden, but you don't suppose we could start right away?" Fleur asked.

"That's fine with me. I don't have any lessons later, but I'll need to get some stuff from the common room. I'll meet you back here in ten minutes," with that, Hermione went off.

* * *

_Hermione was a nice girl_, Fleur thinks to herself. She was helpful, knowledgeable, friendly and smart. Fleur shook her head, she did not understand why there were quite a few people who disliked her. The world was strange like that. People seemed to be unappreciative of many things. Bored, she started to tap her quill idly as she waited for Hermione to return. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" she heard someone ask politely, causing her to break from her daze.

Fleur tore her eyes away from the quill and turned her attention to the speaker as she replied, "Yes, my friend will be sitting 'ere when she gets back."

Cho nodded in understanding and gave a small smile. Fleur returned her with an apologetic one. Or what she deemed as apologetic. Even after five years, Fleur was still not used to all these feelings.

"It's a bit odd isn't it? The library's empty and she wants to sit on my seat. But Harry likes her," Hermione mumbled as she sat down.

Fleur smiled at her, happy that she was back, before saying, "Zat was quick. I like Cho too."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. Despite her appearance of what seemed like a tall, mature and extremely good looking boy, Fleur's behavior was quite the contrary. She had this childlike innocence around her. It was as if she was not fifteen, but a very intelligent eight year old kid instead. Of course, this was only known to those who she actually spoke more than five lines to. Anyone else would have stereotyped her otherwise. "Let's get started then, here, I brought some of my past essays, you can read to see how I usually start them..."

Tutoring Fleur was the easiest tutoring job Hermione had ever done. That two hours spent in the library was a breeze. All she had to do was to give a few pointers, show her some examples and Fleur was able to produce a decent quality essay for her Arithmancy homework. "I think we just need to meet up twice for your other subjects and you might even end up even better than me," Hermione remarked while stretching.

"I 'ope so. Fleur Delacour, top student of ze year. 'As a nicer ring to it than 'Ermione Granger, non?" Fleur said with a grin as she packed her books and parchment into her bag.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes. We all know how smart you are. Now hurry up, or we won't get any dinner," she chided.

Fleur nodded and she hurriedly swept the rest of the items into her bag. On their way to the Great Hall, they broke into friendly chatter about another book that they both enjoyed greatly, only stopping when they heard a scathing tone that was all too familiar to Hermione's ears.

"Get lost Mudblood, you're dirtying my path," Malfoy spat.

Fleur creased her eyebrows, moved in front of Hermione and whipped out her wand threateningly. "Oh? Instead of Potty and weasel I see you've gone to get another addition to your harem. Put a love potion in his drink did you? Because I don't see how someone like this would have such poor taste and choose to associate themselves with you," Malfoy said scornfully with a smirk, all this while shamelessly eyeing Fleur openly.

A split second later, Fleur was quite disappointed with herself when she recalled about this incident that she actually lagged for a split second, after Malfoy's insults, Fleur had muttered something and hexed Malfoy. "What the heck are you doing? I'll tell a, burp," Malfoy yelled, but slugs, instead of words started spewing out.

Crabbe and Goyle stopped ogling Fleur and jumped back to avoid the slugs. Hermione, on the other hand had somewhat of a deja vu feeling.


End file.
